


in the right light

by jugheadsucks



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Betty and Archie are best friends, Bisexual Archie Andrews, Bisexual Veronica Lodge, F/F, Gay Jughead Jones, Jughead Jones is Not Asexual, Jughead and Veronica are best friends, Lesbian Betty Cooper, M/M, Multi, but the two pairs don't know each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-05 06:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadsucks/pseuds/jugheadsucks
Summary: Jughead Jones has been friends with Veronica Lodge since they were kids. They grew up together in New York before moving to Boston to attend college, where they happen to bump into two small town classmates called Betty and Archie.After that, nothing was ever really the same.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!!!  
> SO idk why the fuck i wrote this when i have a million other things to be doing but HERE WE ARE!!!!  
> lemme kno what u think and i'll carry on with it!!

The world is hazy for most of the day. We don’t often stop for long enough to realise it, but it is.

You wake up, rudely dragged from a peaceful sleep and forced out into reality. Your brain is still foggy for a while, still drenched in sleep as you attempt to wring it out like a sponge.

Some people drink coffee, some people do yoga, apparently some people even go for a jog, but Jughead has no idea who the fuck would even think of doing that at 6am.

Once you’ve gotten over that just-woken daze, the day really begins. The tasks you have to complete looming, obligations hanging over you until they’re fulfilled. You rush through it, pushing yourself and pulling yourself along in the marathon of existence.

Once those tasks are complete, however, and the obligations forgotten, that’s when the world comes into focus. For those few hours between end of work and start of sleep, that’s the only time of day where the world is crystal clear. No haze, no rush, no worry, just a small period of simply existing.

For Jughead, those hours tend to be between 10pm and 4am. He likes to spend them alone, most of the time. The only person he allows into the solitude of those hours with him is Veronica, but most of the time she’s sleeping, or busy.

So he sits on the roof of their apartment building, or in the fire escape, or by his window; anywhere he can see out into the world. Sometimes he wanders the streets of Boston, not really heading anywhere and not really caring where he ends up.

He likes to spend these hours doing exactly what they’re meant for: existing. He just takes in the world, takes in everything he thinks he sees within it. He ruminates on a lot of it, probably too much for his own good, but mostly he likes to just observe, letting the world hit him in waves while he stands as still as the shore.

He often writes, sitting up in his room or the 24 hour diner down the street, consuming more coffee than is healthy at 1am. He doesn’t really know what he writes half the time, just whatever comes to mind, whatever he’s inspired to.

Or, obviously, sometimes it’s assignments. He doesn’t often mind that, though. He likes what he’s studying and even though it can be hard work, sometimes repetitive and more often than not, seemingly pointless, most of the time he enjoys it.

They weren’t from Boston, him and Veronica. They were both New Yorkers, born and raised. They could have stayed there and gone to college, but by the time they reached 18, they were both itching to get out.

Neither of them wanted to admit it, but they were both running from something.

They’d met in the second grade. Some kids were picking on Jughead, again, and he wasn’t fighting back, again. He never did, never saw the point. What the kids would say to him, the occasional punch they’d throw, it never really phased Jughead all that much.

Better they pick on him than someone who could get really hurt by it.

One day, however, a new girl turned up at the school. She saw what the other boys were doing to Jughead and stepped in to stop it, admist the sounds of laughter from her classmates. The boys, typically, were not scared of her, and Jughead told her to let it go, but she wouldn’t.

By the time she was finished with them, 4 of them were in tears.

She introduced herself to Jughead as Veronica Lodge, making a slightly confused face when he introduced himself as Jughead Jones, but she didn’t question it.

Just like that, they were friends. Just like that, they formed a bond that could seemingly never be broken.

Apart from Veronica, Jughead never really had anyone else. He certainly never had any other friends, prefering to stick to himself, keep to the sidelines, observe rather than get involved.

Veronica had her friends, of course, always sociable and ambicable to all. No matter who she called her friends, or how much time she spent with them, her one constant was always Jughead. The one person she knew would always just be there, like the ground beneath her feet.

Obviously Jughead has his family, but him and his dad haven’t been on great terms for a while now, and his mum has become more and more distant ever since Jellybean d-

“What are you working on?”

The question startles him, but he doesn’t need to turn around to know who asked it.

Veronica slides into the booth opposite him and smiles, taking a fry off his plate and biting into it. She grimaces when she realises it’s gone cold.

“Nothing really. What are you doing here?”

“Well, you know that girl Cheryl in my math class? I was supposed to meet her for drinks but she bailed on me, something about her brother, yada yada. I noticed you weren’t home so I figured you might be here.” He smiled over at her.

Sometimes he wants to strangle her, but most of the time he’s glad she’s his friend.

“Isn’t Cheryl the one who called you a toxic ice queen in front of the whole class?” he asks, smirking. She rolls her eyes.

“Yes, but we’re better off trying to get along than bringing each other down.” He just shrugs and looks back at his laptop screen.

She calls over a waitress and orders some food, a milkshake and a refill of coffee for Jughead.

The frown on his face when she looks back at him is nothing new, but something about it worries her. It’s his eyes, she realises, they’re not cold like they normally are, they’re… she can’t find the word.

“J, what is it?” He blinks once, twice, looks over at her and closes his laptop.

“Nothing.” She sighs.

“You can shut out the sun, the rain, and the American armed forces, Jughead, but you can’t shut out me.” He smiles, but it’s only taking up empty space on his face.

“I can try.” She kicks him under the table and the smile fades.

“I wrote about… Jellybean. I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, but all of a sudden I read back through it and it’s all just… her.” Veronica’s face softens. She reaches over the table and takes his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb along his palm.

Anyone on the outside looking in would think they’re on a date. They’d both laugh at that.

“J, I’m sorry. Maybe it’s good, though, that you’re writing about her? You have to let it out some time, and writing has always been your way of doing that.” He closes his eyes. He knows she’s right, but he can’t bear to think about it. It’s still too raw, it’s been over and year and it still stabs and rips at his insides whenever he even considers thinking about it.

He shakes his head as if to say “drop it” and pulls his hand away from hers.

She sighs, but she says nothing.

Sometimes, when he sits alone in the diner, Jughead writes about Veronica.

He writes about his best friend, the seemingly fearless, yet somehow vulnerable New York socialite who deigned to give him the time of day. He writes about the girl who kissed him when they were 15 because he’d never kissed anyone and she wanted him to know what it was like. He’d just shrugged when she asked him what he thought and she rolled her eyes, thinking Jughead was just being Jughead.

Two years later, he told her he was gay, and it all suddenly clicked into place. For both of them.

It changed nothing between them. Romance was never, ever on the cards, and Veronica obviously thought no less of him. It was just another truth about it him, another fact in the already seemingly endless list she had in her head.

He loved her for that.

The list of facts about her that existed in his head was just as endless, and just as safely guarded. Whether she wanted to admit or not, she was just as unforthcoming with details as Jughead was.

He looks back up at her as the waitress walks over and places a milkshake down on the table. Her deep brown eyes are wide, and not just questioning but challenging him to speak, to say something, to open up like a flower in bloom.

He loves her, but he says nothing. He just reaches over and steals the cherry from the top of her milkshake. As he chews, one eyebrow raised, she smiles at him.

“You’re an asshole, Jones.”

“I learnt from the best, Lodge.”

 

***

Travelling is weird. It feels like during the time from point A to point B, you’re in limbo, like you almost cease to exist. Everything in the background fades as it rolls past the window, like it could be a green screen and no one would know, or care. You just ride Schrodingers Highway all day until you arrive at your destination, and you somehow begin to exist again.

It’s unnerving.

Fields on either side roll out to the horizon and never cease, like a carpet laid out on the Earth for all to walk upon. The endless rolling hills and green pastures do not comfort, they only serve to elevate the feeling that whilst in motion, nothing out of that window is real.

High reaching skyscrapers climb so high into the blue of the sky, but they never reach far enough into the ground to anchor themselves. They always seem as if, at any moment, they could just float away.

Travelling brings up questions, like ‘are we there yet?’, ‘do we turn left up here?’, ‘why did you leave your safe home town for the big wide unknown?’. Whilst still on the road, they never really get answered.

No questions can be answered by people who don’t exist.

That feeling of coming home after time away is one of the most relaxing and healing things anyone can imagine. It’s like, after being separated from your mother as a baby, you are finally returned to her warm and loving embrace. You can once again shroud yourself in the safety of your everyday life, your comforting routines and familiar faces.

Being ripped from that comfort, from the arms of your mother, is not a nice feeling.

When you chose it, it makes it ten times worse.

The open road has never been somewhere Archie felt safe. The suffocating hands of his small town home have been clasped around his neck for too long, anything outside of it, though tempting and mesmerising, is also terrifying.

He’s always cursed himself for feeling so comfortable cradled in Riverdale’s small town limits. Like it’s some fault of his that the place he calls home is a comfort to him.

It’s not a fault, but sometimes he wishes he wasn’t so damn afraid of leaving.

The road laid out in front of his old, beat up car looks like a question mark, like it’s asking ‘will you last out here? will anyone?’.

Betty turns on the radio, making Archie jump.

“You okay, Arch,” she asks, hand still on the dial, “I can turn it off if you want?” He shakes his head.

“No it’s okay, I was just thinking, sorry.” She turns slightly to face him in her seat. He keeps his eyes firmly on the road.

“Thinking about what?” He sighs.

“About this, about college. I know it’s the right thing to do I’m just nervous.” He doesn’t need to look over at her to know that she’s smiling that concern-and-caring Betty Cooper half smile, copyright 2017.

“I know it’s scary, Arch, but it’s also an adventure! Something outside of Riverdale. And at least we’ll be together!” The excitement is radiating off her and Archie almost feels bad. He wishes he could take that spark inside Betty, that optimism that shines out of her through her green eyes and blonde hair, and implant it into himself.

He wishes he could see the world the way she does. Even in her darkness, in the moments that nobody has seen but him, the world to her is still an inherently decent place.

“I know. I’m so glad we’re gonna be together in this, Betts, you have no idea. Even if it’s not at the same school.” He can see Betty nod out of the corner of his eye. If her head weren’t so close to the seat behind her, her ponytail would swing slightly as it always does.

“We’ll always have each other, Arch, that’s just a given.” He smiled at her words.

They had always had each other. They were born 2 months apart, both being brought home as babies to the same houses they had driven away from that morning. They grew up alongside each other, literally and figuratively. The ease with which they ran from one house to another was mirrored in the ease with which they told each other their secrets. In the half light of the fort they built in Betty’s room, or the treehouse in Archie’s backyard, they would spill their secrets to each other.

As they got older, the locations changed to a booth at Pop’s or Archie’s car, but the secrets never stopped. They found solace in each other, comfort in the stability of knowing that other will simply always be there.

Archie had told her softly one night that he wanted to pursue music, that it made him happy. Betty had smiled and told him that he should go for it, that he could do anything he set his mind to.

Just as he’d bitten into a burger, sitting opposite her in a booth at Pop’s, she had told him that she was a lesbian. He had finished chewing his bite, nodded and said ‘cool’. She smiled so wide she thought her cheeks might burst.

The landscape of Riverdale had always accompanied their friendship, the river flowing past the all emcompassing green and brick meadows of that small town. Their friendship seemed to run throught that river with the water, to be paved into the tarmac they walked everyday and crammed into lockers at the high school. Their friendship was interlocked with that town, and leaving it made Archie scared that maybe whilst leaving his home, he’d inadvertently leave their friendship behind as well.

He glanced over briefly at Betty, staring wide eyed out of the window, and smiled to himself. He knew, as long as they lived, neither of them would ever let that happen.

***

 

5am is the weirdest time of day to be in the diner, Jughead had decided a few months ago. It was also the most interesting. You see the insomniacs, wandering almost like he was, just looking for a place to go and sit and long for the dreams they can’t quite reach. You saw the people working early shifts, grabbing breakfast before work started, as if to give themselves the strength just to survive another day. You saw the occasional small group of drunk people, ordering coffee and greasy food to sober up a little before they head home, memories of this great night already hazy in their minds.

You saw people, in all their variations, with all their motivations and each with a unique reason for being there, in that diner, at one of the oddest times of day.

Jughead wondered briefly what his reason was.

“It’s 5am Jones, and I know you would _live_ in this hell hole if you could, but we do have to leave at some point,” Veronica said, exasperation masked by nonchalance hanging heavy on her voice. Jughead raised an eyebrow as Veronica drummed her fingernails on the cheap, sticky surface of the table.

“First of all, I resent you calling this place a hell hole. Second, you are free to leave any time you wish, I am not holding you here against your will. ” Veronica sighed and tilted her head, staring into Jughead’s eyes with her eyebrows raised.

He said nothing but moved to put his laptop in his bag and she knew that meant they were finally going home.

She stood up and hovered by the edge of the table in a gesture meant to tell him to hurry up. Obviously, Jughead being Jughead, he took his sweet damn time.

Just as he stood up, two people walked into the diner with what Jughead could of sworn was an aura of pure light radiating from their very beings. It was a blonde girl and a red headed guy who looked like they had walked straight out of a comic book or a royal portrait. They were talking quietly to each other, the wrinkles of a long drive tainting their otherwise pristine clothes.

His eyes didn’t moved from them as they walked over and sat down at a table in the corner, the girl commenting on how she couldn’t _believe_ how many things in the city are open 24 hours a day.

Veronica followed his sight and turned to look at the two new additions to the diner’s décor. She smiled.

“Didn’t think he was your type,” she joked. He glared at her and walked towards the door, pushing it open and holding it for her as they both stepped out and looked up into the enchanting, disorientating splendour of the 5am sky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys!!!! thank u for the nice feedback on chapter one, it means so much to me!!! ♥ 
> 
> i really hope you like this chapter too!!! as per usual, lemme kno what u think!!!!
> 
> also, i realised i didn't tell you last time, but these r the colleges they all go to and what they study:
> 
> Veronica – chemical engineering major, maths minor at MIT  
> Jughead – linguistics & philosophy major, english minor at BU (Boston University)  
> Betty – classics major, women's studies minor at Harvard  
> Archie – economics major, music minor at BU

_ “A bold statement” has become, in itself, a bold statement. What even counts as “bold” any more? In this age of super speed internet access, all knowledge at our fingertips, anonymous hate comments and instant global press coverage, can anything even shock us? Can a statement truly be considered “bold”?  _

_ Bold implies that it goes against the norm, but which norm? Depending on where you're standing, a statement could either be bold, or bland. There are no universal societal norms anymore, so no statement can truly  _ be _ bold. _

_ If we attach the old, universal ideas of western norms, we lose what society ha _

 

“‘A bold statement’ has become, in itself, a bold statement,” Veronica read aloud in a snooty accent. Jughead closed his laptop as fast as he could and turned to glare at her.

 

“I told you never to read over my shoulder, Lodge,” he replied. She merely shrugged as she sat on the sofa opposite him.

 

“It’s too hard to resist.”

 

The tepid, September, Boston sun was shining into their small living room, lighting up the table placed between them. Jughead could see the dust dancing in the shards of light as it softly illuminated the room. It was warm in their small apartment, and so undeniably  _ them  _ that it always made Jughead smile. Decorated with a mixture of Veronica’s classic and dignified style and Jughead’s alternative, chaotic taste, but it somehow blended gently into one, just like the two of them.

 

They had only been in the apartment for a couple of months, but they had tried to make it as homely as they could. They wanted it to be theirs, in every way it could be, so they coated it in things that made them smile, that made them laugh, that made them shake their heads, covering the walls like another paint of coat.

 

“Jughead? Do you ever listen when I talk?” Veronica asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow at him. Jughead smirked.

 

“Only when it benefits me.” She rolled her eyes and sighed.

 

“Meet me at the diner for dinner, okay?” He nodded in response and they fell, once again, into a calm and blissful silence.

 

The morning hours were mostly a mystery to Jughead, and they often found him tired and restless. Restlessness always crept in when he hadn’t had a lot of sleep; he became easily irritated and unsure of what to do or how to do it, the whole world confusing in a way he couldn’t quite figure out. 

 

He liked to stay up late, watching one half of the world fall asleep as the other one wakes, seeing things he otherwise would never see. He felt like he was in on something, with every other soul still wide awake at 3am, like they were the guardians of some secret. When the others would wake, they wouldn’t know what Jughead did, they would assume the world had stopped whilst they were steeped in slumber.

 

They were wrong.

 

His classes, however, seemed to like to get him up early, yawning in the rising sun. Despite the lack of sleep, and  _ because  _ of a hell of a lot of grumbling, he usually made it on time. A cup of coffee was, of course, always held firmly in his hand. He sat at the back like a ghost and watched as if he wasn’t really there, as if he wasn’t a part of the scene playing out in front of him, but merely an observer. He liked to offer his opinion sometimes, but mostly he just liked to take it all in, to try and process the ideas of all these people and make them mean something to him. He thought that was the point of all this, of education, especially the subjects he studied. 

 

Thinking was an important part of the whole system, and he couldn’t think if he didn’t first understand.

 

His class that day was full to the brim, unusual for a 9am lecture, but it was the first one of the year so people had to at least pretend they cared. His eyes scanned the rows of people and landed on Kevin Keller, Jughead starting to walk towards him.

 

Kevin wasn’t exactly his  _ friend _ , per say, his only real friend was Veronica, but Kevin was someone he was friendly with. For Jughead, that was enough. He had someone to sit next to in class, to make small talk with on the way to the library, and to help him with his homework if he needed it.

 

Jughead had asked Veronica once, but she had just laughed so hard she started to cry and Jughead had to leave the room because she wouldn’t stop; going to MIT makes you unsympathetic to other people’s struggles, apparently.

 

He offered Kevin a half smile as he sat down next to him, the two exchanging small talk before the lecturer walked in, and the room went silent. 

 

***

 

Archie wondered if every other freshman felt as sick with nerves on their first day as he did. 

 

Staring into the tiny mirror over the en suite attached to his room, he thought for a second that he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t handle university, he couldn’t handle a big city and new people and new places and the rush of it all; that’s what scared him most. Everything moved so fast here, no matter the time of day, it raced from one second to the next, not allowing you time to dwell or even to really take any of it in.

 

He remembered the slow pace of Riverdale, the gentle river and comforting green of the trees. Seeing familiar faces everywhere you went, and walking to the same places every day. You could relax, you could breathe it all in in the fresh air and you always had time to dwell, to think, to let everything wash over you and sink into your skin like moisture.

 

He wished he wasn’t such a coward.

 

He hadn’t even given this new place, this new life, a chance. He felt like a child snatched from his home and planted somewhere he didn’t know, and his heart was ready to run straight back to the familiar arms of Riverdale’s streets. His head was telling him to try, to give it time, to give it his all, and if he went home, at least he’d be going home with some victory stored inside his chest.

 

He took a deep breath, looked himself in the eye, and swore that he’d try.

 

He watched himself jump as his phone rang, smiling at picking it up when he looked down and saw who was calling.

 

“Hey Betty, how are you feeling?” he asked. He practically heard her excited smile emanating from the other end of the line.

 

“Arch! I’m so excited! I’m nervous, obviously, but I’m so, so excited! How are you feeling?” He smiled at her joy, and secretly hoped that some of it would rub off on him.

 

“I’m… very nervous,” he replied, “I can’t even be excited I’m so nervous.” 

 

He wished she was there so badly, he wished they could live together and support each other through this, but he was alone for the first time in his life.

 

“Oh Arch, I’m sorry. I’m sure it will be better than you think it will! Just remember that you’re not alone, everyone else is in the same boat as you.” He smiled at her words, but it still didn’t calm the ache in his chest or the writhing in his stomach.

 

“Thanks Betty. I’ll meet you tonight, yeah?” he asked. 

 

“Yeah, I’ll let you know where. Good luck, Arch!” 

 

“Good luck, Betts.” 

 

He hung up and walked away from the mirror, hoping that his day would end better than it had started.

 

***

 

Walking into the library was like walking into a vacuum. It was warm, swelteringly so, and the sounds and background noise that normally followed you around in the outside world just disappeared. You ascend into a hushed silence, almost suffocating, like an absence of sound that pressed up against your ears and forced you to keep quiet.

 

Jughead liked it though, the quiet - it calmed him. The hushed whispers of the people around him, the turning of pages and the shuffling of paper, the tapping of fingers on keyboards. It was all so familiar, and warming like a fire on a cold night. The silence of the library sheltered him, allowed him a quietness and anonymity that he sometimes wished he could have all the time. 

 

Growing up in one big city and moving to another wasn’t all perks.

 

He sat down at a table next to a shelf stacked with Anthropology books, his favourite spot; tucked away in a corner, right by a heater and only 2 seconds away from the closest coffee machine. He looked up for a second and just watched.

 

It was still quiet, the term having just started, but there was one girl wandering around with a heap of books in her arms, eyes excitedly scanning the rows, occasionally reaching out and adding one more to the pile. Another boy was sat one table over from Jughead, his new laptop surrounded by a halo of fresh stationary, pencils and pens and sticky notes that would be dirty and chewed and half used within a few weeks.

 

He figured that they were freshman and smiled; he remembered his first trip to the library, wanting to make the most of the sacred space, to take it all in and make it a second home. He liked it, but he used it less and less throughout the year, prefering to sit in the diner or climb up onto the roof of his and Veronica’s building if it was warm enough.

 

He pulled his laptop out and reviewed his timetable, trying to plan what needed to be in when and what books he needed for what module, but neither his head nor his heart were really in it. 

 

His eyes naturally flicked upwards when he saw a flash of red hair walk near his table. 

 

The boy disappeared down one of the aisles of books and Jughead stared at the end of the shelf until he walked back out, crease in his brow. He stood still and looked around, trying to find out which way was the right way. He looked frozen to the spot, the fear and uncertainty of trying to navigate a foreign environment taking over.

 

Jughead suddenly saw a flash of the diner, red hair and blonde ponytail, smell of coffee and grease in the air, familiar and comforting.

 

“What are you looking for?” he asked suddenly, and he cursed himself to fuck for opening his stupid mouth.

 

The boy looked over at him, slightly shocked but also relieved, and walked over to the table. He looked nervous, and Jughead felt a little sorry for him.

 

“Uh, the economics section?” he said, unsure. Jughead snorted, probably sounding harsher and more condescending than he meant to.

 

“You’re in the wrong library. This is the humanities and arts library, the business and law and maths and whatever library is over in the east campus.” The boy sighed, looking sad and defeated, and for some ungodly reason, Jughead’s chest ached, and he opened his mouth once again.

 

“I could show you, if you want?”

 

He regretted the words the moment they came out of his mouth. He didn’t want to babysit this fucking guy, he wasn’t in some kind of buddy system, he normally barely spoke to people, let alone offered to show them around campus. Why the fuck was he all of a sudden Mr. Helpful Small Talk? 

 

He ignored the part of his brain that was telling him it was because this boy was cute, because he wasn’t. I mean, he  _ was _ , but (just as Veronica had said) he wasn’t Jughead’s type. He was cookie cutter perfect, all sharp jawline and wide eyes, and Jughead couldn’t be sure, but he was pretty sure there was a killer set of abs underneath that t shirt.

 

But those wide eyes looked so grateful, and happy, and hopeful, that Jughead felt a bit guilty that he wasn’t happier to help.

 

“Really? Oh thank fuck, that would be really cool, thank you.” Jughead just nodded and collected his stuff off the table, slinging his bag over his shoulder and walking towards the coffee machine.

 

“I’m gonna grab a coffee first, though,” he said. His hands started to sweat as he fiddled with the change and put it into the machine, his stomach clenching uncomfortably. He internally scolded himself; why couldn’t he just talk to people? Make friends? Be  _ nice _ ? He didn’t know why, but something deep in his gut was telling him to bail, to get as far away from this boy and his glistening eyes as possible.

 

New people mean one thing to Jughead: danger.

 

“Okay. I think I’ll get one too,” the other boy said, standing next to him at the machine. He smelled good in a way Jughead couldn’t stand to process right then.

 

“I’m Archie, by the way.”

 

***

 

“Jughead. It’s weird, I know.” Archie laughed and his stomach fluttered.

 

_ Shit _ .

 

“It’s cool, my full name is Archibald, so.” Jughead smiled slightly and Archie smiled back, warmth filling his chest.

 

“What are you studying?” he asked as Jughead put the lid onto his cup of coffee.

 

“Linguistics, Philosophy and English,” he replied, stepping to the side so Archie could get to the machine. 

 

Archie cursed himself for talking so much when Jughead was clearly not a chatty guy, but he thought maybe he’d found someone nice, maybe even a friend, and he didn’t want to let the chance the get to know someone pass him by.

 

Not to mention, he was kind of cute, in a you-shouldn’t-find-me-cute-but-you-just-do, sort of way.

 

“Wow. I’m studying Economics, obviously.” Jughead nodded, and Archie selected his coffee on the machine, trying to act casual even though he could feel Jughead’s eyes on him. The other boy was staring at him quite intensely, in a way that shocked and unnerved Archie, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it.

 

He wondered what Jughead was making of him.

 

“This way,” Jughead said when Archie had his coffee in hand, walking off towards the stairwell.

 

Archie followed him, and hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

 

***

 

The mid-afternoon sun was warm and Jughead was a little too hot as he sipped his coffee in his denim jacket, but he didn’t let it show. The narrow path through campus was lined by grass, blowing gently in the breeze and broken up by the occasional tree, bench, or group of people sat soaking up the yellow light. 

 

He walked in silence next to Archie, pace slow so the other boy could take in where they were going. He wanted to get this over with, to show him the damn library and disappear to the diner until Veronica came to meet him. He could only deal with a certain level of human interaction a day; Veronica was the exception, he never got sick of her, but with Kevin and everyone else, he had a limit. Strangers? He barely had any time for them, and the fact that he had initiated this interaction made him feel that maybe he needed to get his head examined.

 

“Everything is so big here,” Archie said suddenly, and Jughead raised an eyebrow to hold back his scathing laughter. 

 

Archie, however, did laugh.

 

“I know that sounded stupid, but I come from a small town that I’ve hardly ever left, and everything there is tiny. This is a bit of an adjustment.” Jughead nodded. The very concept of small town life - greeting your neighbours and town meetings and community events - made his skin crawl.

 

“It’s cool. It makes sense. I’m from New York, so nothing here seems that big to me.” 

 

Archie nodded. “Yeah, I bet.” 

 

They walked the little distance across campus making quiet and unimportant conversation, and occasionally dropping into a warm silence. The air was clearer than Jughead remembered it feeling, and the campus wasn’t as busy as he had gotten used to. It was nice to just walk and, even though he’d never admit it, to make conversation with someone new, someone who didn’t know him, who he could tell anything to. He was always talking to Veronica, the one person who knew him better than he knew himself, but even though he’d just met Archie, the realisation that he didn’t know Jughead at all, that he could pretend to be anything he wanted, set off in him a hesitant kind of ease.

 

They stood in front of the tall, glass doors of the library, and Jughead told Archie where he should be heading once he got inside. The other boy thanked him, and Jughead offered him a small smile as he walked away, telling himself that the heat in his chest was normal.

 

***

 

“You’re late,” Jughead said as Veronica approached his table, not even looking up from his book. She sighed as she slid into the seat opposite him. 

 

“We never agreed on a time, you idiot, I just knew you’d be here all night.” Jughead locked eyes with her.

 

“It’s eight o’clock. For dinner, that’s late.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling slightly, and Jughead threw a menu in her direction. She looked shocked and reached for the salt, but Jughead shook his head warningly before she could attempt to sprinkle some over his head. 

 

She settled for unscrewing the top and placing it back at the end of the table, and Jughead laughed, never failing to be shocked at how mischievous Veronica could be. She shrugged one shoulder and skimmed the menu as if she didn’t know every dish on it already.

 

“Jughead?” he heard someone ask, and it made a cold fear creep into his chest. He very rarely heard people he didn’t know use his name, and the public space of the diner meant the list of people it could be was endless.

 

When he turned to look in the direction of the voice, he saw Archie stood a few feet away from their table next to the blonde girl, who offered him and Veronica a shy but sincere wave. He had to stop himself from swearing out loud.

 

He just couldn’t seem to escape this guy.

 

Truth is, somewhere deep down, a part of him didn’t know if he wanted to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY I LEFT THIS FOR SO LONG!!!!!!!!!! i abandoned all of my stories, life got in the way and then it became harder and harder to start writing again but i'm back!!!!!! i promise!!!!
> 
> i hope you guys are still interested in reading this!!! i really like this story and i still have a really clear idea of where it's headed so stick with me this time and i promise i won't leave you for so long in between updates!!!
> 
> i apologise for leaving you hanging for so long, but please let me know what you thought of this chapter!!!!
> 
> enjoy!!! ♥

The diner was busy - for 8pm on a Monday - and Jughead's skin was itching as he sat at the table, restlessness sitting like a scalding heat in his veins. The other three people around him were chatting quietly, waiting for their food, and Jughead didn't know why he was so uncomfortable, but he wished he could be anywhere else.

He doesn't like people. Well, he doesn't  _ not _ like people, but he would always rather just be alone, to be able to disappear into his own thoughts, free of any pressure and no energy required. Crowds he finds rather comforting because he can be anonymous, sink in and get lost and pretend he isn't even there at all. He can glance at people for a fleeting moment, imagine their life and their personality, their hopes and dreams and fears, and then they're gone, like a phantom. 

People that he knows, however, that he has to talk to and interact with, he finds  _ exhausting _ .

It had been that way since he was kid, since he could remember. He was quiet, but not shy, just content to get on with his life and let other people get on with theirs. It wasn't that he was the most comfortable with his own presence, because if he was being honest, he runs away from himself more than he does anyone else. He just liked to be able to disappear into his imagination, into a world where it was just him and his words and the images they conjured, swirling softly about him and protecting him like a forcefield from everything else. 

His mum always tried to get him to be more open, more friendly, mistaking his indifference for lack of confidence. He always knew she meant well, but he also knew she didn't understand. Jellybean was always so open, so friendly and outgoing and kind and Jughead admired that about her, her ease around people and the way she opened up in their presence.

He just closes down.

As if on cue, Veronica kicks him under the table. He doesn't react, having gotten used to it after she’d done it so many times, but he does look over at her, one eyebrow raised.

“Betty asked you a question,” she says, voice light, but Jughead can see the daggers shooting from her eyes and he resists the urge to smirk.

“Sorry, I zoned out, what did you say?” he asks, turning to look at Betty.

She was nice, he thought. Her green eyes and soft voice almost unbearably sweet and Jughead could feel the naivety radiating off her from the other side of the table. It wasn't her fault, she was just raised that way, almost the cookie-cutter perfect girl next door, blonde ponytail and all.

Despite the stereotype and small town aura, Jughead thought that maybe she wouldn't be unbearable to be around. 

“I just wondered what you were studying?” she asks, smile soft and eyes glistening.

“Linguistics, Philosophy and English. What about you?” 

She nods, still smiling, and Jughead wonders how a person can physically hold a smile on their face for that long.

“That sounds so interesting. I'm studying Classics, with a minor in Women's Studies. I'm at Harvard though, not BU.” 

His eyebrows shoot up that.

“Harvard, huh. That's kind of impressive.”

She blushes a little.

“Thanks,” she replies softly.

Before an awkward silence can ascend, the food arrives and the smell makes Jughead realise how fucking hungry he is, never having been so happy to see a cheeseburger in his life.

He dives in as soon as the plate is on the table in front him, picking up the burger and taking a huge mouthful, chewing as fast as he can.

When he looks up, everyone's staring at him and they all look like they want to laugh.

“What?” he asks, mouth still full of food.

“Someone's hungry,” Veronica says and he glares at her.

“Well, maybe I wouldn't be if you had turned up for dinner at a normal time.” 

She rolls her eyes and pops a fry in her mouth, chewing softly.

“You should be glad I even eat dinner with you at all,” she replies, and Jughead smiles. 

She's being an idiot, but she's right.

“You two are cute,” Archie says suddenly, “are you…?” 

Jughead just stares at him for a second, blinking in shock, as Veronica begins to laugh. Archie looks embarrassed, but Jughead can't bring himself to feel bad for the guy because the idea of him and Veronica being together is downright  _ hilarious. _

“No, we're not together. I'm gay, actually,” Jughead replies, watching both of their faces intently for the response.

Luckily, they both smile.

“Oh, sorry dude, my bad,” Archie says, starting to laugh a little himself now. 

Jughead just shrugs back at him, smiling slightly, and the look on Archie's face makes his stomach run hot but he can't quite figure out why.

Or rather, he doesn't  _ want _ to figure out why.

“It's so nice to meet other gay people,” Betty says suddenly, unfortunately drawing Jughead's eyes away from Archie, “I'm a lesbian and Archie's bisexual, but a small town like Riverdale doesn't exactly have a thriving LGBT community.”

Jughead is slightly shocked by this, but he can't take a second to process the fact that Betty's a lesbian because  _ Archie is bisexual. _

He looks back over at him and Archie is just smiling, so soft and his eyes so warm and Jughead wonders why his chest feels light, he wonders why he doesn't want to look away.

Veronica says something and he manages to break the spell, turning to look at her as she speaks and he takes another bite of his burger, still feeling the heat of Archie's gaze on his skin as he eats, but he pretends he feels nothing.

That's a can of worms he has no intentions of opening.

 

***

 

_ It's dark, is all he realises at first, so fucking dark. He can see a streetlight in the near distance which is the only light source around, but it's just barely enough to light up the blood pooling out slowly on the other side of the car. _

_ His haziness turns to panic. He can't think, he can't breathe, he just has to get round the other side, he has to make sure she's okay.  _

_ As he tries to move, he can't, his waist trapped by bent metal and he screams as he tries to release himself, tries to break free from the vice trapping him in place. He screams her name but he hears no reply and fear seeps like ice into his veins. All he can feel is the pressure around his waist and the terror around his heart. His only thought is that he's supposed to protect her, he’s supposed to keep her safe _ ,  _ but now she's bleeding out on some random highway and he can't save her. _

_ The engine in front of him starts to catch fire, and he can see the heat rising and he knows he has to get them both out but he still can't move, he can barely breathe, panic and smoke tainting his lungs as he- _

sits bolt upright in bed. He’s panting harshly in time with his pounding heart, sweat soaking through his t-shirt. One of his arms reaches out to rub across the sheets, trying to calm himself as he breathes deeply, his entire body shaking with panic.

This isn't the first time he's had this dream, and he doesn't think it will be the last.

He reaches over towards his bedside table, blindly grabbing one of the books stacked there and flipping through it, feeling the pages between his fingers. He breathes in, out, in, out, and tries to relax, tries to control his heart and brain as they race at two hundred miles per hour. The paper running between his fingers helps and slowly his heart starts to relax and he can breathe steadily again.

He puts the book down on his bed and stands up, legs weak and unsteady from exhaustion. He dresses quickly in the dark, pulling on the nearest pair of jeans a hoodie, before putting his phone and laptop in his bag and heading silently to the kitchen.

Once he's up on the roof with a flask of coffee (having moved through the flat as quietly as possible, not wanting to incur the wrath of a sleep deprived Veronica) he finally checks his phone.

It's 3:17am, but he barely clocks the time, his attention immediately drawn to the fact that he has 4 unread texts from Archie and he thinks  _ oh boy, what have I gotten myself into _ . He only gave him (and Betty) his number because Veronica exchanged numbers with them and then looked very pointedly in his direction and he hopes to fuck he won't live to regret it.

Much to his surprise, and against his better judgement, he actually finds himself smiling slightly as he reads through the messages.

**_Message from Archie (1:03am):_ ** _ Hey Jughead, this is Archie :) _

**_Message from Archie (1:04am):_ ** _ It was nice to have dinner with you and Veronica earlier, it makes me feel less scared being in the big city now that I know someone haha _

**_Message from Archie (1:51am):_ ** _ What's your favourite film??? _

**_Message from Archie (1:53am):_ ** _ Sorry, I can't sleep, I'll stop messaging you now, sorry _

He hates the saccharine warmth that creeps into his chest as he reads them, so he tries to ignore it. He pours himself a cup of coffee, opens his laptop and pulls up the short story he's been writing, sitting there with his hands poised over the keyboard. His brain mutters  _ if he's still up, he clearly can't sleep and could use someone to talk to _ but Jughead shakes his head. He reads back the last paragraph he wrote, not a single word making its way into his brain, so he reads it again, and again, and again. His fingers tap against his laptop as he sips some coffee, willing his brain to actually take in what he's reading and stop yelling  _ text Archie text Archie text Archie _ . 

He can't get close to people, he can’t let people in, it's too much. He has Veronica, that's all he needs. He’s too prickly, too closed off and cold for anyone to bother with for long, so they never get to see what he’s really like. If anyone did see deep enough into him, though, he thinks they’d run for the hills, and he doesn't want the pain. He can't lose anyone else, no matter how he loses them, so he makes sure he never really has anyone to lose.

He reads the paragraph through one more time and sighs.

Before he can stop himself, he's picked up his phone and opened up his chat with Archie, thumbs moving rapidly to craft a reply.

 

***

 

Archie wakes up to the sound of his alarm blaring, and he groans automatically. An uncoordinated arm reaches out from under the covers and grabs his phone off the bedside table, squinting as he finally halts the grating sound. He closes his eyes to lie back down again when he realises that he has five unread messages. 

The smile on his face as he reads is so wide that it hurts.

**_Message from Jughead (3:30am):_ ** _ my favourite film is probably pulp fiction or the social network _

**_Message from Jughead (3:30am):_ ** _ i hope you managed to get some sleep _

**_Message from Jughead (3:33am):_ ** _ any reason you were still up? _

**_Message from Jughead (3:37am):_ ** _ i went to sleep early for once but i had a weird dream and woke up and now i'm sat on the roof of my apartment building _

**_Message from Jughead (3:37am):_ ** _ it's nice up here _

Archie feels a calm wash over him before he can help it, just the knowledge that he might have made a friend enough to ease some of his anxieties. He likes Jughead. He’s weird and slightly aloof, but he emits this calming vibe that Archie can’t help but be drawn to. It makes the whole ordeal of starting university in a big and unknown city just that bit easier, and he’s glad that he already has someone who knows what city life is like to help him navigate it. He’s probably more scared of Boston than he should be, and he’s probably subconsciously clinging to Jughead a little bit because of it, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He ignores the fact that he might find Jughead cuter than he should, and all the repercussions that that fact could have, and starts to reply.

**_Message to Jughead (7:32am):_ ** _ I guess I'm still nervous about the whole new city and starting college thing so I couldn't sleep. It sounds awesome that you can sit up on the roof, the view must be wicked. _

**_Message to Jughead (7:34am):_ ** _ And those are two really good films, Fincher and Tarantino are two of my favourite directors _

Archie slowly drags himself out of bed and into his bathroom to start getting ready, but before he can even open the door to his en suite, his phone buzzes with a reply. He smiles before he can even see who it’s from, thinking  _ it can’t possibly be Jughead already _ , but when he sees his name staring up at him from the screen, he beams right back.

**_Message from Jughead (7:36am):_ ** mine too. my favourite tarantino film is probably pulp fiction, and my favourite fincher is the social network, obviously

Archie slowly goes about his usual morning routine, stopping to text Jughead way too often but unable to stop himself. They talk about movies and writing and university, Jughead so articulate and knowledgeable about so many things but also so funny and Archie wishes they were talking in person. He thinks about asking him to meet him for a coffee or to go to the library but he doesn’t know if it would sound like he was asking him on a date. He’s not even sure Jughead would even want to see him again so soon, he doesn’t seem like the overly social type. 

Despite his best efforts to be on time, he walks into his 9am lecture ten minutes late with a huge smile plastered on his face.

 

***

 

As he walks through the campus in the city, Archie still finds it hard not to be overwhelmed. He hates feeling like the fish out of water small town kid, but that’s exactly what he is. The buildings tower over him, lined up one after the other like dominoes, and the people move around him like cogs in a carefully organised machine. He feels out of place, like a wrench in the gears or a glitch in the system, and he hopes he starts to feel at home sooner rather than later.

The library is somewhat comforting, though. It’s huge and a little bit like a maze, seemingly never ending bookshelves leading to more and more bookshelves, level after level and row after row. Despite Archie’s propensity to get lost easily, the library is warm and quiet and there’s constant access to coffee, so he thinks he’ll be spending a lot of time there. 

He sits on a table at the end of a long row, pulling out the first piece of reading he has to do for his Econ 101 class and putting in his headphones. He tries to focus, to take in the words in front of him and make coherent notes, but he finds his mind wandering and his pen tapping restlessly against the paper. The work isn’t urgent, but he wants to get ahead of things as soon as he can and he doesn’t want to just sit in his room alone, it makes him feel slightly pathetic. Betty is so busy - the first few weeks of Harvard proving to be very intense - and he feels the need to keep himself occupied so he doesn’t fall into panic. He could sit in the kitchen and talk to his flatmates when they come in, but he’s still anxious and he doesn’t want to force himself to be social and seem like he’s trying to hard. He’s probably overthinking all of this, but he can’t seem to slow the thoughts down, or stop the feelings that go along with them, so he just tries to keep himself busy.

He eventually gets distracted and finds himself watching the people around him, the tables occupied by a decent smattering of people, muttering to themselves or each other and adding to the low him of noise in the room. One girl is napping, head leaning on her bag on top of the table, mouth slightly open, and Archie wants to laugh; if she’s napping this early into the year, she’s gonna find exam season very difficult. There’s several people with piles of stationary laid out in front of them, organising and highlighting with a scary level of diligence, but a lot more people like Archie, work out in front of them but basically just passing the time, distracted or bored. 

He looks back down at his reading, trying to get through the whole thing before he gives in and heads back to his room. He’s just starting to actually make sense of it, the words and ideas starting to click into place in his head, when he feels someone sit down opposite him and lean over slightly to see what he’s reading. 

The last person he expected to see when he looked up was Jughead. His eyes are cast down, trying to read Archie’s paper from the opposite side of the table, head tilted slightly to the side as  a strand of hair falls over his eyes. A few seconds pass before he looks up to meet Archie’s eyes.

“Hey,” Archie whispers, almost like a question, and Jughead smiles.

“Hey. I thought you might be here, so I came to check and see if you want to go for a coffee?”

Archie blinks, mouth slightly open, unsure of how to respond. Jughead didn’t text him and ask, he didn’t even call. He walked all the way across campus to the Economics library for no reason other than to ask him to go for a coffee and Archie is  _ flawed _ . His stomach feels light and bubbly and his chest feels hot he tries not to let it show on his face.

Jughead doesn’t seem like the kind of person to go to all of that effort for someone he barely knows. In spite of that though, he looks over at Archie with a soft smile on his face, and he thinks that maybe there is so much more to Jughead than he thought there was.

“Yeah, I’d love to go for a coffee.”


End file.
